Broken
by DarthZaDr
Summary: They call me broken because I am not a part of the crowd; because I do not date girls one after the other. My sexual needs are broken, they say. Maybe that is why I fell for Zim. Dib's POV. ZADR one-shot


They call me broken.

How can they not? I am broken off from the world, spending day after day, night after night alone in my room with my beloved paranormal. I come from a broken home; my Dad always away, my sister always the bully. Even at school Gaz wants naught to do with me, save to punch my face, break me further.

They call me broken because I am not a part of the crowd; because I do not date girls one after the other. My sexual needs are broken, they say. Dysfunctional, because I care not for big breasts and long legs, no more than I care for six packs and peckers. But that does not make me broken; I just . . . do not view the human race as they do.

Maybe that is why I fell for Zim.

The alien. With his confident strides and arrogant smile he drew me in as a fly comes to honey, and indeed Zim is so very sweet, so casually intoxicating. He does spectacular things with his tongue that no human can perform; his arms so strong and slender, his hips sharp and pointed. Curved like the ocean's wave and just wet too, when he pins me down, his body slick with sweaty effort. Do not get me wrong I love the sex; I may be asexual but that does not mean I lack libido. In simple terms I find no one attractive. Not sexually, at any rate. Zim is very beautiful: his bright eyes like molten fire, his jade skin soft as silk – but beautiful to me is not sexy. I love Zim for his confidence; for the loyalty he shows to me and me alone. For how he stands beside me even when no one else does.

Zim is called broken too, by his own people. Broken, defective, so say his leaders. When first they called him broken I was the only person Zim ran to, with tears hot on his cheeks and his body contorting in shock. And I, broken too in the eyes of the world, pulled him into my embrace and rocked Zim until he was calm again.

So you see, he is broken and I am broken, but together we are whole.

* * *

"Human, your base does not carry sufficient sugary-nutrients for me! ZIM!"

Three years had passed since the Tallest first called Zim broken; now that time was just a bitter memory, one of many on this ruined planet. Still my home is broken, but with Zim close by things seemed complete; Dad was at work and Gaz sat locked within her room with only the company of her Game Slave and rapidly disappearing pizza. My room was alight with the smell of buttery popcorn, Poop Cola, and the flickering light of the television screen on my face.

"There's more cola down here," I called, pointing to my feet where the pack of drinks lay. "Come on, sit down, episode eight's about to start." I patted the empty space beside me. Satisfied, Zim threw himself beside me just in time to catch the final few seconds of the opening theme. In the rare evenings of Zim's calamity I liked to have him curl up beside me with snacks and a good anime series.  
But unlike me, Zim very much experienced sexual attraction. Even in the dim light I could feel his gaze on me instead of my TV; he was eyeing my bare chest, his molten gaze travelling down my torso to my crotch, and within my chest I felt my heart sink. Yes, I have libido, and I do enjoy sex with Zim, but his drive was so immense and mine not so, and I feared Zim's only want in our relationship was sex. He wanted it almost every day in many places: his base, my home, at school, in the mall . . . The danger turned him on.

Had he fooled me all this time? Did he care only for the sex?

Those were my exact thoughts when Zim started to kiss me. Of course I kissed back, but my mind was miles away, trying hard to focus on the TV and my _Steins; Gate_ series, which only became more of a challenge. Zim turned the sound down and drew my attention to him again. He kissed me long and deep, claws tracing all down my skin reaching towards my pants . . .

"No, stop it Zim." I pushed him away. Zim blinked hard, evidently taken aback by my denying him. "Sorry, I'm just . . . Not in the mood." I lifted my head and met Zim's gaze full on. "I told you before that I'm asexual Zim, I don't always want to fuck . . ." My voice trailed off; so suddenly I felt small beneath Zim's gaze. I closed my eyes, waiting for his vengeful rage to erupt into existence . . .

"I see." Was all Zim said. I risk opening a single eye; Zim turned the television volume back up. "Selfish hyooman," I heard him mutter, and he yanked me towards him. I yelped aloud, and suddenly felt crimson arise and flush my cheeks red. I settled down, snuggling deep into Zim's arms to watch the DVD.

"Selfish hyooman," Zim repeated, his tone thick with loving mockery.

And there we lay all night long: two broken entities, united to make a whole.


End file.
